


Immaculate (In Your Tender Violence)

by owltype



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2032506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owltype/pseuds/owltype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This dance has begun; turn on the heat, let the fire run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immaculate (In Your Tender Violence)

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary are from Xandria's song, Black Flame.

It’s a dance. He steps forward and you step backward. The wall your back is pressed against taunts you: there’s nowhere to go but forward. And then you’re dancing again, each step an attempt to illicit a response other than apathy.

Finally, his hands reach out to grasp your biceps. Even though the touch is gentle, you can still feel the absolute power trembling in his fingertips, and a deep thrill thrums through your veins.

“This is illogical,” he whispers, his voice rough and low. 

“Yes.” Your own hands find purchase on his shoulders. He shifts and you clasp him tighter, bring him closer.

“I do not understand what I am doing.” His confusion is almost palpable; but his hands slowly slide up your arms, across your shoulders, and down your chest. Hesitantly, he leans forward and presses trembling lips to the base of your throat.

“You’re kissing me,” you breathe, hands clenching spasmodically. You want to touch, and taste, and fuck. But he’s skittish, so you must move slowly. Like the hunter stalking his prey, you must be patient.

“Why?” He sounds tortured. His breath is moist against your throat. His hands have grown more insistent. “Why are you letting me do this?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, you let your hands slide down the expanse of his back. Though your fingers want to dig into defined hip bones, where you know they’ll fit perfectly, you make yourself stop at his waist. Just the lightest pressure belies your intentions. But it’s enough, because suddenly his hands clench at your skin harder and he’s walking you backward. Your knees hit the edge of the bed and then you’re falling, falling, falling hard.

“Tell me, Jim,” he whispers fiercely as he peels your clothes off. “Tell me, why?”

“Because,” you gasp and he gasps too, “I feel the same way.”


End file.
